Sunday, May 28, 2017

Songs of the exile. Corrandes d'Exili.

Here you are:



I do this cover because I usually enjoy singing this song. This song was made by Lluís Llach, one of the most important singers of Catalonia. He did it using the lyrics of a poem of Joan Oliver, that was one of the greatest poets of the time of the exile, when thousands of people of Catalonia had to scape from fascists that were conquering their homeland and killing thousands of people that fell died on the roads and outskirts of the cities. The song expains the pain and the sadness of the writer, when he was crossing the Pirenees in the night with his wife, watching their steps to not being captured by the enemies, and leaving may be for ever their homeland towards France, where some months later Hitler would overrun and chase them too. So... they should keep scaping further than France, to Mexico.
This is my first try to sing this poem. I'll keep trying next summer, may be in "El Marquet de les Roques" a wonderfull modernist house in the middle of an awesome mountain, surrounded by forest. This house belonged to the family of Joan Oliver, and there he spent magic nights of poetry in the twenties. I could do a second try of singing this song in the house where I usually spend my vacation in summer in Masriudoms, or may be in the shore, beside a sea inlet, under the trees, where the waves and the cicadas sound do the chorus.

Do you want to come with me? If you sing with me it will sound better... sure!  

Wednesday, May 17, 2017

Do you like being naked?



-Oh! You like being nude! Isn't it?


-No... In fact, I never think about being nude... What I like is feeling the Sun, the wind, the sea... on my whole skin as it was just one reality... I like doing it while I smell the pines and hear the wave's sound, and fill myself with such a beautiful landscape... If I thought I had to be nude... or if I wished the idea of being naked... I would lose all those perceptions

The little foolish things of life are the core of our life:
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Tuesday, May 2, 2017

Only our rivers run free...



Some years ago, Mickey MacConnell wrote a wonderful song that talks about the freedom of his land. The natural elements of the landscape, the earth, the wind... those powers that seduce us with the memories of our ancestors... appear in the lyrics, and touch our hearts.
Day after day, I try to improve my singing of this song... Anyway I'm happy to put my heart on it as a love's action. This is the main matter, the most important attittude: to do the things for loving.
I hope you like:

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Monday, March 6, 2017

I went to the woods not to realize (when I came to die) that I had not lived.



Nervous. Exhausted. Sometimes overwhelmed. Sad. Hopeful. Satisfied. Bereaved. Burned out. Aware of the Sun's beauty in the Montcau's Sunset. Grateful to Hamza, the boy who walked with a crutch; to Pilar, the girl who had such a difficult future that she is likely to suffer deeply nowadays; to the subsaharian boy with a name that I can't remember right now... he taught me that the God that many people consider so "father" didn't seem very worry about him; it had happenned few moments before I discovered that this apparently absent God was himself. Messy. Worry by thinking about the possibility of having displeased anyone with my politically incorrect opinions. Tearful. Sometimes longing my death, but at the same time wishing it to be far away.  Sometimes loving the sun when it overgilds the sea; this view is good enough to keep breathing. Sore with this strange civilization that on one hand condemns the nudeness, so precious, and on the other hand eroticizes it. Hating the private property of anything. Loving cooperation, kindness and freedom. With all these feelings... I walk toward the forest and sing "Arrels"; this is heartwarming enough to keep loving life.   

Wednesday, February 15, 2017

GRACE



Sometimes I can't stand a lot of situations in life, then I remeber the pains and the sadness of those who once lived on the Earth, and I realize that I shouldn't complain. For instance, this happens when I think of Grace, who got married few hours before her husband was killed. How could she overcome this situation? How was her life after that moment? If she could go ahead with her existence... why can't I? But even though I understand all this ideas, sometimes I can't; and I realize I need help, I need the warm nearness of someone who understand all. The hardest experience in life is the discovery of the coldness hidden inside the human hearts. Coldness, egotism, emptiness, hate... I need a warm heart, and I need to be surrounded by warm hearts. Everybody need to be surrounded by warm hearts. It is not difficult, even babies can do. It is just priorizing the highest attittude. Be patient. Be tolerant. Be warm. Be kind. Kindness is not weakness; kindness is the core of our beings.

Tuesday, January 31, 2017

If you don't leave all, you will stay in the hustle.



I'm seeing you in the end of the Earth, in a wild spot where you have just arrived, because you decided to go further than the famous and popular paradises of the travel agencies that sold you the trip. But I realize you wear your shimmering shorts in red and blue, clean and ironed; and the Ray-Ban glasses, and your face and attitude a little bit hidebound, tense... It looks as if you didn't want to mess with the sand.


In fact, you are still in the civilization, in the frenzy of owning and feigning. 

If you don't leave all (all you have, all you believe, all you fear, all you want to look like...), you will stay in the hustle, far away from this freedom. 

If you don't blend yourself into this landscape, you will keep in you mind the invisible chains of repression. 

If you don't get naked, you will be just a visitor, and you will not be part of the landscape. 

#naturism #freikörperkultur #fkk #nature #freedom #beach #sea #mediterranean #calafonda #waikiki

Thursday, January 5, 2017

We should picture how drop-dead gorgeous our life would be if we visited for a while the places where magic is born every day.


Anyway, the good times are yet to come...

The new year started and I’ll get it up. During the last year I got beaten, but now I’ll get through the most narrow pathes that fate wants to send me with my heart full of hope. My power stands in the sunlights reflecting on the sea’s surface. It is hidden inside the beauty of the nature even in the hardest weather. Otherwise, my power also stands inside myself by knowing the deep and fair will of my deeds. I wallow in the freedom by leaving the old prejudices and preconceptions that lapse. Everybody has the power of the happines beside, but it is so usual that nobody realizes it is so near!
During the last year, I got beaten, and many times I got angry, and maybe I got older than the year before. Sometimes, all of a sudden, life gets us older. Most times, hard times turn us into strange beings who don’t know how to go ahead. Many times I didn’t know how to go ahead, but I went ahead, I went forward, And I’m right here, right now, hoping a better future, having confidence in life despite what I suffered and even though I know that anyone is subjected to an unsafe future. Life is a gift. The very existence is a gift. Before we existed, we didn’t have anything; now, we have a lot of blessings, a lot of privileges. I know we have reasons to claim and to wish more and more justice, but I’m sure that we have more reasons to be grateful than claim or get sore. The good is stronger than the evil, and the future will be better.

In the world, there are a lot of places where magic is born every day. We don’t get these places often enough. We should picture how drop-dead gorgeous our life would be if we visited for a while every day these places. And likely these places are inside ourselves, in our way of watching the world around us. Many people ask what is wonderful about imagining worlds of fantasy, but I’m not talking about fantasy but about reality; I’m not talking about traditional beauty, but about a beauty that is hidden even in the ugly face of the landscape. Sometimes, this beauty stands even in the invisible realities around us; the realities that awake asleep memories or forgotten knowledges. The world is as we watch it, because everybody builts his own world. Has anybody ever pictured himself or herself moving to these world after a long time of mediocrity?

Wednesday, December 28, 2016

About being liked and the life.

CC-BY-SA-2.5 from Marsyas on wikipedia

Everyone wants to be liked, but in fact, first of all, it would be better if everyone wanted to like himself. 
Would you like for any powerful person to like you? Be careful, Power ones usually try to buy all that they wish, and those who buy people don't love them.
He likes you, doesn't he? That's not a bad thing; but you have to be sure he doesn't want to own you.
Are you from around here? We are really from everywhere.
I usually feel the urge to say something, when I see so clear an answer or an idea.
Many things are a lot of trouble to everyone; usually, life is more simple tant people think. People get it more confused. Wrong thoughts get dark a whole life. 

Saturday, December 17, 2016

Remembering the warm times of summer



Here, in the north of the Earth, winter is coming, and we remember the warm times of summer, and the freedom of nakedness. Every golden beach, every little creek, every misterious cove where the sea arrived again and again, the blue light of the water when it was crossed by sunlight, the whole human skin of the human beings who were not aware of their nakedness, the brown, the dark and golden, the coppery color of the human body, the quiet mind of the quiet souls of those who are like children.
All this beauty is usually attacked by those who have empty minds; different kinds of people of various ideas, or even without ideas, despise or confuse or assault the simple experience of freedom. To be naked is just to be naked. To be naked is not necessarily a way of life or an ideology. To be naked is a way of enjoy nature, and it is a right of every human being whatever his culture or ideology is. To be naked is not necessarily a search of sexual stimulation. Almost always, the experience of nakedness is a family and simple-hearted party.


Wallowing in the winter we enjoy the natural cold weather too. Now we live every moment of the nature's travel, waiting for the summer to come, and the sweet moments in the cliffs near the ocean, when we lived deeply by swimming in the sea, sunbathing on the rocks, hearing the waves sound, enjoying the quietness of the shore...  
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Wednesday, December 7, 2016

Waltzing Matilda



During the harshest moments of my life, "Waltzing Matilda" has been a personal anthem. I'm not Australian. In fact, I live on the other side of the Earth, but something strange has made me keen on the song "Waltzing Matilda". At the same time, in the same harsh times, I've been fond of the wide and lonely prairies, the red color of the earth, and the sacred silence of the landscape.

Here, in the video you can see above, I was in a lovely house of a little village called Masriudoms, near the naturist beach of "El Torn". It was in summer, and Waltzing Matilda was my pray to the misterious God that stands above any religion, a God that doesn't punish or rewards, a God that just gives; the God of the red lands and the wild prairies.

I hope you like. 

Monday, November 28, 2016

The origin of the life



By remembering the clear years of childhood, 
when we understood so strongly 
what friendship means, 
we can figure out the mistery of love.
By staring at the green prairies under the rain, 
the plumb’s sky over the hills, 
the burning and cool light of the damp landscape, 
we assume the tender love of nature upon us, 
as a mother, 
as the origin, 
as the core of existence.
By singing and listening "Shenandoah", 
we feel the human soul that comes from the night of times; 
an alive soul that flies over the trees, seas, sands, mountains...

We have inside all that is out there; 
life is around us, everywhere, 
in the air and in the empty space, 
and anything that can be alive, gets alive. 
If a stone could be alive, it would be alive. 
If the mud can be alive, it will be alive. 
Life wants to exist and fights to exist. 
Maybe it’s because all is full of beauty 
that life struggles to exist and develop.  

Saturday, November 26, 2016

When we are just born, our mind hovers delicately on the last edge of pure kindness



Your voice is the right of your soul to express itself. Be brave to talk about the wilderness of our lovely nature. Every line that is drawn by the wind is an only line, and it has the right to be singular. If anybody tries to uniform this line, he or she will destroy it; its identity and its life.
When we are just born, our mind hovers delicately on the last edge of pure kindness. We come here full of kindness. Kindness is the natural core of our awareness. Then, it all starts to get harder. But we should have the will of keeping this kindess or recovering it, because this kindness is our true core.

Too many times, we end up with our nerves jaded, and maybe this happens because any thing is wrong in the way we live and specially in the way we treat each other. There is such a few time! And mostly we waste it as if we had all the eternity to live. Time is precious and we have to use it to deeply live, to deeply love, to deeply create. Someday we’ll leave naked and we will take just what we will have deeply experienced.


Thursday, November 24, 2016

Staring



On the pleasant shore of the universe, there’s a strange being who thinks that he is the center of the existence. He has a treasure, but he doesn’t realize. Around him, beauty and mistery. 
In fact, this strange being called human being is deeply atracted by the mistery. As a curious mind, he loves searching and seeking answers. But many times his pulsions compels him to rush, fight, hate, fear... This poor devil has not chosen to live like this. Something, or someone, has put him in front of the cruel laws of the biology. He has to eat living beings to survive. He has to kill either vegetables or animals. Williy-nilly, he has to destroy other lives to keep himself alive. And, as I have already written, he has not chosen this situation.
Sometimes, this strange being sits down and think; and he feels he loves, he feels every human being is infinitely worth. And this awareness just happens sometimes, when the power of the pulsions stops and the mind of this being is clear and clean.
Inside every human being there is an actual heart; and when this heart is sane, every human being understans that somewhere about there is more than fight, more than fear, more than hate, more than destruction, more that violence, more than money, more than utilitarianism, more than brutality, more than domination. This strange being watches himself and realize he is more than he looks, and much more than society thinks.
Many times, on this pleasant shore, strange and powerful buildings stands as if they were the answer everybody looks for. Churches, mosques, several temples arise towards sky with the verse of the fear to convince people to obey; with the grey poem of the interest to compel everybody to believe. Unknowledge is too unbearable for too many people and they rather accept inventions than search answers or hope through logical and honest thoughts. People usually live quavering as the image of a great mountain is quavering in the clear shallows of a lake that works as a mirror. People should be the mountain more than the quavering mirror. People should remember that they have been settled in this strange existence without having chosen it, that they did not decide the rules, the scenario, the fight, the death, the weakness, the blindness...

By staring at nature, this strange being can figure out little but strong evidences. By having confidence on sunshine, this strange being can feel answers. May be he can not hear or understand these answers, but he can feel them and hopefully live.    

Wednesday, November 23, 2016

Fumbling along a bit...

Ets tu! from Jere Soler on Vimeo.

Sometimes, I fumble along a bit the hidden beauty of existence. In that moments I hear sounds and I feel melodies like birds flying, or waves pumping into the beach. 
I made this song during the last summer, and It is a message that wind talks to human beings. It is a poem about the sea and the freedom too.
I hope you like it.

Thursday, November 17, 2016

The dark time

Image of Mario Modesto Mata from the wikipedia
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During the dictatorship of Franco, Spain was a land of legal murders and children's torture. The ideological heirs of Franco have still the power and refuse seeing into the criminal responsibility of that time. They even make fun of the people who was killed.

I’m going to write about the teachers of my parents. All that I’m going to explain is concerned with the teachers of my parents and generally the teachers of that time.
They used to use fear to convince the children. By terrorizing them, they got their obedience. During their childhood, those adults had been scared by authoritarian teachers, and they had grown up learning that their world was a wild forest of miserable people, and that only discipline and catholic education could save them from human hell. When Franco took power they discovered themselves as teachers, and they applied what they had learnt according to the ideology of the time. As children they learnt that if they wanted to be fair people, they should obey and accept their grey and boring fate.
Besides, they were slaves of the image as the whole society was. They should take care of the image they showed to people, the image that sorted everybody, and that decided who was honorable and who was a shameful citizen. Teachers taught their pupils to live according the dictatorship of image and prestige.
The main tool of the teachers of my parents was violence. They believed in violence; the violence of the punishments, the violence of their religious ideas about the hell and the devil, the power of the blood. «The words are taught through blood» they used to say.
They screened these cruel ideas upon the minds of the children, and this screening worked not only through what teachers talked to them but what they didn’t tell them either. Silences were as loud as shouts were. Screams were the usual poetry of the imperfect children. Those educators were ill; their minds were as ill as the society where they had grown up were.
Today we can talk about their deep mistakes: their obsessive separation between girls and boys, their insane fear of sexuality and nakedness, their neurotic fight to reach the perfection in the goal of achieving the order in life and things, in the timetibles, in the way that they wanted everyone to dress, in the way they wanted everybody to speak, walk, play, dream, live...

Their pedagogic lines consisted in memorizing more than understanding. It happened that many times not even the educators understood the core of what they taught.
Since 1939, and during decades, most teachers were settled by the government of Franco. They were young adults, eighteen years old sometimes, and they were sent to thousands of towns and villages down the poor and devastated Spain after the civil war. By that time, thousands of old teachers had been killed due to their republican ideas.so that either the teachers that remained working or the new and young teachers were all keen on the dictatorship, or they tried to seem so at least. There were terrible injustices, like the teacher that was condemned to death for having taught about the reproduction of donkies, or many other teachers who were killed for having been talked to the children about freedom and resistence against the fascism. So teachers who survived were like scared sheep obeying an evil wolf, or maybe evil sheep worshipping an even more evil wolf. Since that time, two or three generations of people have been educated wallowing in the darkness of an evil society, learning to close their mouths, to obey without claiming, to value their survival more than the quality of their life, to distrust freedom or anything related to freedom.
It was a sad time. Nowadays education is much better.

Tuesday, November 1, 2016

Vine and thoughts



A free mind will unroll an endless succession of magnificent possibilities. The completeness of our life will be transformed when we decide to release our mind, live in a free way, and reach our highest dreams. Give yourself a dream, and you’ll be giving yourself a reason to live. Our mind’s change will open up whole new worlds for us. Now it’s time to sit up in our chairs; it is even a time to stand up, and walk, and move award, and be brave, and peaceful. Many people is given to decaying, drifting by the seamares, giving up, being torpid, depressing by what they feel as a nonsense life. We have our treasure inside us, in the way we see our life, but we have to go ahead and breath the clean air of the wild landscape. The wild landscape is the book where we can read the secret of the happiness, our «homesoul», the mother of our blood. We had scarcely been born when somebody decided to prevent our lives from wallowing in the wild nature, in the mud, in the cold water, in the earth... We had scarcely started to walk when somebody compelled our steps to follow the written rules of the civilitation, far away from our homeland, far away from our true core. We had scarcerly reached the age of the matureness when somebody forced us to be afraid of living, and by fearing life we started to be invisible slaves of the civilitation’s pace. We have to solve this drama by ourselves; our life is in our hands; our freedom is the power that makes the bricks of the «Freedom Human Being Building»; our bravery is our main weapon; our loving to life is our strongest energy. And somewhere about there is somebody who thinks the same; somewhere about there are a bright sun, a wide sea, a fresh and clean wind... But somewhere about there are slaves too; a dim reality that languishes in the darknes of slave minds. Don’t let them sink us. We have not to fight them with our violence either with our agressivity; our way of fighting is going ahead with our heart full of peace and hope.
I like staring at the red and gold leaves of the vines, arriving to a little village and going to any staminet to have a drink. Then I usually play a song with the guitar, and sing any song rooted in the season and the spot. I like the unknown songs of the country (any country); the songs that made cry people many years ago; people who is already dead. I like the songs that make still cry the invisible beings that stand around us and that come to listen to me. I feel the nearness of them, their love and their feelings. Singing gives me more energy than any pill or therapy. Singing is a way of speaking with God and with the people who have already gone. Singing is not just a hobby either a way of cheering a party; singing is a tool to talk to a world that exists beyond our universe and our time.

A lot of people make a mistake when they think about singing and performances as if these were simple ways of wasting time; they usually pay attention on the resplendent neons names of the streets, the false glare of the fame and the fortune that the civilitation values as if these were all in life. They watch and assume the wrong glistening of the act of singing, a lie that the mass media repeat and repeat till people strongly and wrongly believe. But singing is much more and inner. Singing is a treasure for every person, as praying is too.


The life of the power lovers becomes empty and stale. Power rots its slaves and feels even more hungry. Power slaves usually get blind; they reach the starkest grotesqueries decaying thinkers that once were bright can reach. We have to be humble and we have to be dreamers. We have to live with the idea that we are wooing thousands and thousands of human beings that one day will receive the fruits of our creations. The most tiny job is a path towards the creation. The most simple verse can carry news from the angels. The more we love the more the world will be saved. We always live in a twilight. The light of a dying sun is always yelding its beauty and singing a soft and peaceful song of hope. We live always waiting for the time we will live and stay in the land of the freedom. We were born for the freedom. We must not live like dozing car drivers along the road of existence; there are too many stars above. We must not let ourselves lost such a lot of beauty. We have to go ahead with our mind full of hope while the world thunder by. Our being has to be a peace’s refugee. We have to receive our fellows as the lull between a stale gaiety and a cold egotism. We have to enjoy the healthy taste of the existence by freely living in touch with the wild nature and the invisible beigns around us. The streets, the corners, the squares, the lights of our towns are full of lovely invisible forces that love our existence and inspire creations. The smart sense of the existence push towards the peace and the empathy of everybody. Justice is not a word that asks for revenge or punishment but an absolute liberation from the evil and the emptiness. Punishments just add more evil and don’t solve anything. No one understands love through punishments, on the contrary, many people get more and more harsh, blind and agressive. Only love can create love. Only thoughts can change thoughts. Only peace can develop peace. Of course, I’m not talking about general solutions for a whole state but about individual attittudes. The completeness of the individual attittudes is the power that can change the world.

Tuesday, October 25, 2016

The leaves that fall.



Green and red twilight 
during the last instants of the day.
I know where my ashes will rest;
beside the roots, wallowing into the mud,
swallowing drops of life and breath.

This will is not an attack or a despise,
but the true wish of a dying soul.
I don't want dogmas of tortures and redemptions,
just the love and the bless of an awesome Earth.
People who love me know 
where my ashes will rest,
and this yearning is not an incitement 
or a provocation.
A little part of me, 
clean and mineral,
will symbolize what I will have been,
what I will have loved.
But my mind will stay 
with those who I love,
for ever and ever. 

Monday, October 3, 2016

Our main God



There will come back the leprechauns,
the fairies rings, the Morrigan,
beyond the hills, under the clouds,
when rain is back and dew is pure,
we will recover the freedom’s pace,
without the death’s machines of fear.
Our god is green and made of land;
I’ve seen its face in every man,
in every woman, in every child,
in every song, in every smile.
Above the homeland of my soul,
we’ll worship life deeply again,
and we’ll proclaim that every person
is our main God and our main chant.


Wednesday, September 28, 2016

Shenandoah


There are songs that have a strange power inside. These are songs who hide the secret of the human core. When I hear them, and when at once I see the face of some young people, I understand that all is for good, that the future will bring us a victory, and that this victory will be for everybody; even the lost sons and daughters of the darkness will reach this victory.
We are all like children fumble along a bit, through the night, and we all need a true and deep love, further than the poor empire of sensations and pulses. We are all children of the existence and we deeply need each other. 
We arrive to the Earth with our heart full of treasures. A little bit of the wisdom of the world whence we come keeps inside us when we arrive. Year after year, human society beats this treasure and turn us into beasts. We usually come from universe understanding all we need to understand. But a strange seed that we have in the blood of our veins compells us to change, and to be less than we are.
So... we have a lot to learn from children; they still have these answers, they still keep the warmness of the hands of the mistery that thought of us and did us. 
Greetings!

Friday, September 23, 2016

Sheeps



When I was born, they had already decided how I should be, what I must do, what I had to believe, how I was going to dress, to speak, to smile, to walk, to look... They designed a world to turn me into a sheep, a good and obedient sheep, a beautiful and traditional sheep. They drafted glorious declarations of honour and dignity to dress up the slavery in which all the sheeps were going to live. The sheeps were born, grew up, worked, married, had children, got old and finally died. The sheeps only thought to unwind from their tedious lives. Their thoughts were tolerated if they were silent and quiet. The sheeps were allowed to enjoy culture and arts if they priorized the needs of the productive system. There were big stadiums where the sheeps were able to shout and scream like crazy beings to unwind from their apparent empty lives.
Sometimes some sheeps were different. Sometimes some sheeps were black. Sometimes some sheeps were not like they were supposed to be. Everybody needs a little bit of freedom sometimes, but some sheeps need to be free always. The rulers of the society said that those sheeps were like cancerous cells, because society needs the self-deny of every sheep to achieve greater goals, but those sheeps said that they were no tools of a greater being but already great beings. They said that every sheep is a goal itself, and that nobody should treat any sheep as if it was a cell or a tool. These sheeps lived trying to do what they liked to do, and... even though they tried to earn a livelihood for their children and to improve their world... they also said that they had been born to be free and to create.
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